


Sainthood

by The_Wonderful_Jinx



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Gen, patron saint au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:09:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5629276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wonderful_Jinx/pseuds/The_Wonderful_Jinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were local legends and a ghost story all strung together with religious subtext; but one thing always stayed the same, their names. Saint Alex and Saint Richard, the ones someone called on for help, in general or academic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sainthood

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://buckybabs.tumblr.com/post/133948326387/the-wonderful-jinx-buckybabs) and comment fic written a few months back. Reuploaded because the date of publication was wrong.

He'd seen her many times around the college campus he called his home. Like him, she had chosen a human guise so she could walk freely among the mortal students. She always picked the form of a young woman: dressed in the current fashions of the year, with a bag -sometimes a backpack, other days a leather messenger- slung over her shoulder, and a pencil or a pen tucked into her long hair. Today, he noted as he helped a group students decipher medieval texts from Latin to English (always an arduous task for the unaware), she had dressed in a simple white t-shirt with a black hoodie in the university’s logo emblazoned on the front (a knight in red armor), jeans, and combat boots. Her hair was brown (last time it was red) and it matched her eyes. Despite the passing years, change of trends, and the identities they had to shed to keep the humans unaware, her eyes never wavered from the shade of dark brown that always seemed to glimmer even in the dimmest of light, fueled only by her determination to help her fellow students. Her wards could depend on her and whenever they whispered her name she would come running to their side.

He had a routine and he loathed to stray from it, something she found out after a few years of their cohabitation of the campus. She also figured out in those beginning years was that and he liked it when she recognized him, hence why he rarely changed his appearance; a tall man with a thin stature, dark hair, blue eyes that could silence a room, glasses, a suit (black or navy, never patterned and always paired with a plain tie), and days old stubble on his jaw. He passed for a typical, good looking, middle-aged professor, and the university was large enough where he could blend in with any of the random names he chose. So when they crossed paths, following their wards close behind, she always remembered to smile and wave, acknowledging his presence. Like company was short in the place they shared. She rarely had a chance to speak to him. She was usually too occupied whispering encouragement to an overworked journalism major, helping a student with research, or passing a little dumb luck to keep a student from losing their dinner money at the dorm poker table. He was busy too, keeping the night-owls awake and inspired, helping the researches find the texts they need, and making sure the coffee pot never breaks down when they asked for his guidance.  They were local legends and a ghost story all strung together with religious subtext; but one thing always stayed the same, their names. Saint Alex and Saint Richard, the ones someone called on for help, in general or academic.

Every once in a while, their prayers eventually coincided and when that happens they had to work together, one of the rare times they got to communicate. They worked like a duet. She lead their ward to whatever they were seeking, protecting them if it came to it. He kept the ward on track, pushing them as hard as he could without breaking them. He always pushed, but she pulled just as strongly. They could the balance the other out without harming their student or having petty pride getting in the way. (Any pride they did have was left with their physical bodies, six feet under ground in the cemetery a mile away.) Their work could be seen in the documentaries, the whistle blowers, the brave souls who stood up against the cruel systems of the world, the ones who survived the confrontation and those who didn’t. He considered those works to be his masterpieces. She never voiced her opinions, but the smile and the glimmer in her eyes he glimpsed when a task was finished spoke volumes.

Sometimes they caught a break. It was usually during the holidays, but even then, they knew the truth was always being sought after. But in those moments where the prayers were silent, they would meet. They preferred coffee shops, but if those nearby were closed or they simply wanted privacy, they instead would walk around the campus park at night, side by side, admiring the stars. It was the only time they talked about subjects other than their work. They didn’t really need to talk. Words were meaningless to their kind, “saints” as the students called them. They could communicate in a celestial language of gestures, a code of sighs and that existed when time began, a language that was instinctual to them the moment were raised above the other souls to help those on the mortal plane. But to them, words were unique. Something in those words they shared between had a power not even sigh could hold a candle to. It felt better to talk than stand in silence. No topic was forbidden to them, the one exception being the events that led to their present state: missing files, money troubles, angry letters, and an ugly confrontation that left a student and professor dead before their time. The thought of it is enough to render them silent for the rest of the evening.

One night, while on one of these walks, a prayer reached their ears and they found themselves at their new ward's side. It was a reporter, a young man who looked like he belonged in a garage band rather than in a dangerous part of town and asking questions that were better off unsaid. _New blood, rookie mistake_ , she thought with a heavy heart. It was all too familiar to her. Someone threatened the young man. Another person pulled a gun out. The reporter fled and five seconds later bullet holes were in the wall. They raced to keep up with the reporter’s pace, following the prayer.

_Please let me get this document to my boss in time. Don’t let me die for God’s sake._

Richard kept the reporter moving when fear was ready to paralyze them.

“ _Not yet._ ” he said to them, pushing them to move. “ _You can make it. You’ve come too far to give up now. Just get this to the right people, and everything will be fine._ ” he promised.

“ _I won’t let anything bad happen to you._ ” Alex whispered as she guided their ward through a safe route, avoiding all the dangerous looking alleys and the strangers on the streets. She went out of her way to make distractions for the pursuers: from dogs, stray cats, joggers, cars, and even an ill-timed door opened by a grouchy elder (she was always a fast thinker, even when they were just starting out). If he had the time to stop and admire her work, he would've laughed.

They got the reporter to the office safe and sound just as the sun peaked over the horizon. He went back to the campus, but she remained and made sure the young man was the first person to see the boss and even oversaw the meeting on how the files would be handled. When the meeting concluded, she left knowing his story would be told. In the afternoon, as he was helping a graduate student plot out their thesis, he spotted her having lunch and offering internship advice with a couple of juniors. When she is finished, she rose from the table, gathered her things, and made her way toward another prayer. She passed by him and like before, she smiled and waved, not bothering to stop and talk and risk interrupting his tasks. Despite the dark shadows that had formed under her eyes from their late night, the glimmer in them was still there.

_We did it_ , she whispered.

He only nodded, disguising it as though he was agreeing with his ward.

_I’ll see you next time._ And as always, she was gone.

He had the comfort of knowing that he would be seeing her again. It wasn't like they could die a second time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think and if there are any errors/ooc-ness!


End file.
